Of Fires and Serpents
by macadoodle1996
Summary: The flames of the witch hunts grow ever higher and closer to the beloved Founders of Hogwarts. Salazar/Helga. See my page for new ongoing Founders story, From Fen, from Wild Moor, Glen, and Valley Broad. Character death


**A/N: So, I know ought to be working on TDoB (or, actually, my homework), but I've sort of hit a block with it. And, with the updated Pottermore site up and running and all my friends retaking the Sorting, and some being sorted into new Houses (btw, #StillaSlyth), I've become really fascinated with the Founders. I have an idea for a longer fic in the works, that would explore each Founder's back story and relationships with each, and this would eventually be included in that, but for now, it is a one-shot. Let me know what you think/if you would want to read a full-length Founders story. (Not to worry, I will come back to Bailey Black's story, but I need a breather, and this seems like fun.)**

Heggy knew she was in love. Moreover, she was scared.

Ric, oh he would laugh and laugh and laugh. Helga Hufflepuff, the advocate for acceptance and kindness, afraid of love. Of course, that would all come before he discovered who it was that she had fallen for. And Ro, dear, dear Ro; well, quite frankly, Heggy wasn't even sure that her absent minded friend would even notice her plight. More likely than not, the woman would simply want to experiment on the effects of ill-humors on a love-addled mind, one that was usually so steadfast and strong. And Salazar… Sal. Well, she simply wasn't sure what was in the dark haired man's mind or heart. No one seemed to ever be able to fully suss out the man's feelings. And that was what scared her.

The night before, she had been able to read each and every one of her dear Sal's feelings. A messenger, one of his beloved serpents from the forest just beyond his old home, informed him of his younger brother's execution. His face had remained neutral whilst he was still in the Great Hall in front of the children, but he quickly left. Ric had quickly stood to follow his oldest friend, but Heggy had placed a gentle, tanned hand on the warrior's arm.

"Allow me, Ric," she had said. He had hesitated, but after an exchanged look with Ro, he had gestured for her follow their friend. She quickly curtsied and rushed after him.

Sal had, of course, went in the direction of his dungeon labyrinth, taking so many twists and turns that Heggy was unsure of how she could possibly follow him until she heard great gasping sobs emanating from a hallway deeper in the castle. Somehow, she followed the echoing sound through the maze that Sal had so meticulously built and found the man in question.

He was a sorry sight indeed, his emerald green robes half torn from his body, the silver circlet of the Fey that he usually wore so proudly 'round his brow was tossed to the side, his pale, regal face warped into a purple and pink mask of pain. Heggy approached the man carefully, as one would a wounded animal.

"Sal?" she whispered quietly. In less than an instant, he straightened, the circlet back on, his robes fixed with one gentle wave of his hand. Of the four, he had always possessed the most raw magical power. To all the world, he once again appeared to be Salazar Slytherin, son of the Changeling Princess Splendora and the Lord of the Flames Abelard, Greatest of the Founders Four. But, Heggy had always had the gift of seeing through such disguises. She knew her friend was teetering on the edge of breakdown.

"You shouldn't have left the feast, Helga," he said in a soft voice, worn and guttural from the force of his grief.

"You're talking, nonsense, Sal," she said, calling him the name only she could.

"The students adore you. They will miss your presence," he said.

"The two others are there, and besides, you are more important right now," she said before pulling out her wand and summoning a very large steaming mug of liquid. Sal scowled.

"I am no first year to be comforted with warm milk before bed, Heggy," he said petulantly.

"Good thing this isn't warm milk, then," she replied with a smirk worthy of Slytherin.

"What is it then?"

"Firewhiskey."

Salazar let out a small snicker. "Are you trying to get me drunk enough to have your way with me, madam?"

Helga turned as red as the colors that Ric so favoured in his wardrobe and décor, spluttering nervously for a few moments before Sal's snickers deepened into a chuckle as he gently took the mug from her hands.

"For shame, Salazar! That is no way to speak in front of a lady! You are as awful as Ric!" she said ostentatiously. He chuckled some more while she glared at him before he straightened his features enough to bow.

"I am sorry, most dear lady, please, forgive me for my uncouth behaviour. I assure you, I will be spending less time with swine such as Gryffindor in the future that I may offend you less."

"Good," she replied. They stood quietly for a few moments, a somber mood falling back over them.

"I hate him," Salazar whispered. "I hate I must share his name. I hate him for what he has taken from me, from the world. He deserves death—death by the flames he so enjoys."

"Sal—"

"No, Helga, there is no defense for that kind of… monster that turns his back on his own. That dissgusssting, vile _muggle_ ," he hissed, nearly slipping into the Parseltongue that had been his salvation in his youth. The salvation that his brother, Selenus, had not been so fortunate to inherit. "I swear, I swear on my mother's grave, I will allow my father's villainy no more, if I have to single handedly rip each and every one of his men to shreds, I will not allow him to keep murdering innocentsssss."

There was a dangerous light in his usually warm, coal dark eyes. Now, they seemed almost red, reflecting the flames of the torches around them. A cold wind picked up, dousing their light as the bowels of the castle seemed to rattle.

"Sal, you're scaring me," she whispered in the dark, only able to see the whites of his eyes.

Seeming to realize what he had done, Salazar waved one hand and reignited the torches around them, flooding the corridor with warm light once more. He seemed to deflate, exhausted from his emotions and his magic.

"I am sorry, dear heart," he said. Helga reached out and laid a hand on him.

Suddenly, he grabbed her, holding her small, rounded frame close to his long lanky one, as he sobbed into her neck. Startled, she stood limply for a moment before beginning to stroke his back as gently as she could, whispering sweet nothings to try and calm him. He was saying something in her ear that she could not quite make out at first for his tears. She strained to understand.

"…won't let him. I won't let him. I won't let him…" Sal was whispering over and over like a mantra.

"You won't let him what, dear?" she asked gently.

"I won't let him take you. Any of you," he said. "I won't let him. I can't lose my Heggy. _I don't want to be alone again_."

Helga's heart broke just as it soared at Sal's heartfelt admission. She had never seen him so vulnerable, so broken. And so, she could not, would not stop the promise that tumbled from her mouth.

"I swear, you never will be."

But, somewhere deep in her heart, Helga knew that she had no business making any such promise.


End file.
